


Resolutions

by Ayantiel



Category: James Bond Skyfall
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-06 22:10:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayantiel/pseuds/Ayantiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q is alone on NYE and despite outward appearance it isn’t the way he wants it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rehfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehfan/gifts).



> for the 00Q NYExchange  
> Prompt: Q is alone on NYE and despite outward appearance it isn’t the way he wants it.  
> They’d like to see: first kiss, first time drunk, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, angst.  
> In addition they dislike torture porn, horror, BDSM, self harm, prison fic.

Q absolutely detested this time of year. He hated all the enforced cheer, the horrible christmas decorations everywhere and if he heard one more bloody carol he was going to murder someone. It was already well past christmas for goodness' sake! You'd think that they would stop when that blasted holiday was over and done with. But no, it had to be dragged out till the start of the new year, and Q disliked that excuse to party as well.  
He didn't really know why he loathed the holiday season so much, just that every single thing about it annoyed him to no end. And so he avoided it as best he could. He declined any and all invitations to social events, did all his shopping at odd hours so he would avoid the masses and had earphones all but permanently in his ears, blasting anything other than christmas carols, he didn't much care what.  
He didn't mind others celebrating the holidays, and he was more than happy to sign off on the necessary papers that allowed the Q-branch minions to host a New Year's party in their department. But then he would inevitably feel left out, despite not even wanting to attend the blasted party in the first place. He hated how his brain worked sometimes.

That was how he found himself on New Year's Eve, working at home because Q-branch had been taken over by festivities, and he was determined to not feel lonely. So far he was failing horribly.  
For a while he had managed to lose himself in his work. He had honestly had quite a lot to do! But now that he had finished his paperwork and the first draft of his latest project, there was not much left for him to work on. He needed M's approval for continuation of the project, and whilst Q was pretty sure he would get the go-ahead, he needed Mallory's signature to get the necessary funding. With his work for the year quite literally done, there was nothing to distract his mind from the crushing loneliness.  
With a sigh Q rose from his seat and padded over to the kitchen area where, after a moments consideration, he poured himself a glass of wine instead of the umpteenth cuppa tea that he had first planned.

“I'd love some wine, thanks.” A voice came from behind him and Q nearly threw the bottle of wine at the intruder.

“Bloody Christ, 007! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” He hissed before he let out a sigh of relief. “When did you even get back, aren't you supposed to be in Italy?” he demanded.

“Hello to you too.” Bond said calmly from where he was leaning against the doorway. He was looking as well polished as ever, in his impeccable suit and trademark smirk. When you looked at him you wouldn't think he'd just returned from a dangerous infiltration mission that, last Q heard of him, had Bond diving in the dirty water of Venice's canals. But that was kind of the point of being an agent of Her Majesty's secret service.

“I finished up early and figured I'd rather celebrate New Year's in England.”

Figured, Q thought. Bond was never one to miss a chance to drink or seduce a beautiful woman into his bed. And a party like celebrating New Year's Eve was the perfect excuse for both, Q imagined.

“If you're looking for a party, I suggest you head over to MI6.” he said, trying to not have his voice betray how miffed he felt.

“Already been. Your minions are well on their way to absolutely plastered, but were sober enough to inform me that you had headed home.”

“Why did you need me? - Oh, right. Signing off on the return of equipment. If you actually brought something back, that is.” Q sighed. “Right. Let's deal with this then, so you can go back to your partying.”

That earned him a look from Bond that he could not quite decipher, and he was generally good at reading people too.

“Are you trying to make yourself seem older by talking like an old tart?” Bond said, bemused. “Aren't you coming to the party? It's organised by your very own minions.”

“I have work to do, 007.” Q began, but was cut off by Bond giving a snort.

“Like hell you do, or you wouldn't be drinking wine.” He said with an annoyingly perceptive glint. “Plus it's New Year's Eve, Q! Live a little!”

“I am quite fine on my own, thanks.”

That was meant to sound more believable than it had. The bitterness that had tinged his words was certainly not helping make his case and now Bond was giving him another one of those indecipherable looks.

There was a short and awkward moment of silence before Bond broke it.

“Well then, I should get back to MI6 and report back to Mallory. If he's not too drunk yet.”

“Drunk? He's at the party?” Q asked. He couldn't imagine M 'letting go' for once.

“Oh yes. Last I saw him, Ms Moneypenny was trying to convince him to sing ABBA's happy new year.”

Despite his best efforts, Q chuckled.

“I'm off then.” Bond said, moving to the window from which he had no doubt come.

“007, I do have a functioning door, you know?” Q commented dryly.

“Ah, but where's the fun in that?” Bond smirked and then tipped backwards out the window.

Q resisted the urge to rush to the window to see if he was okay. Even if he hadn't had some kind of plan on how not to break his neck, Q was sure by now that Bond was made of some kind of rubber. That was the only explanation for how that man always bounced back from lethal injury.

He settled back onto his sofa with his glass of wine and took a sip. Perhaps he should have offered Bond some, asked him to stay. But it was probably for the best that he hadn't. Bond already had a worrisome ability to make him smile and laugh and generally forget about his troubles. Allowing the man further into his life would not be the best of ideas. Even if the loneliness was already creeping back in...

Fuck it. He was not going to wallow in self pity. And he would certainly not pine after a man whose idea of a normal exit was a drop from 7 stories high window.

And he certainly wasn't going to feel jealous of his coworkers who could stand holiday celebrations. He took another sip. Then another, deciding that if the rest of the world was getting smashed, then he could damn well do so too.

By the time it was ten minutes till midnight, Q was pleasantly tipsy, tossing popcorn at his telly and had just decided that his new year's resolution would be to stop pining after people he worked with when there was a noise from his window. Q looked on in growing surprise and amusement how 007 climbed through his window with a remarkable lack of grace.  
He had always imagined Bond to be a bit like a cougar when it came to breaking and entering, but either the agent had had a bit too much to drink, or Q would need to adapt his fantasies concerning Bond.

“007” He greeted, the unvoiced question of 'why are you here?' colouring his tone.

“Evening.” Bond said as if he had not just practically fallen flat on his face. “I thought I would bring you some champagne to properly welcome the new year, but now I'm wondering if you need any more alcohol.”

“Says the man who just rolled over my carpet.” Q countered and was rather pleased that the words came out without a slur. “Really, 007, doors. They don't bite.”

“But there is a significant lower chance of being shut out if you simply break in.” Bond said like he had just shared worldly wisdom. He fished out the previous mentioned bottle of champagne and walked to the kitchen and got out two clean glasses.

“Do I want to know how you are so familiar with my kitchen?” Q asked as he got up to follow him.

“I'm afraid the answer would bore you.”

“Oh?”

Bond poured them both some of the sparkling wine and handed Q a glass.

“I've simply spent far too much time going through people's kitchens in search of alcohol. There are only so many places people generally order their belongings.”

Q laughed.

“Are you saying I'm predictable?”

Bond grinned and really, that was a bit unfair to his poor new year's resolutions. They had only just been born.

“I wouldn't dare.”

Q blamed it on the alcohol when he decided to hell with it, I'll show him unpredictable, and kissed him. They parted at the first chime of clock striking twelve. By the third chime, Bond had reclaimed his lips and that kiss lasted till the clock was finished.

“Happy New Year, 007.” Q whispered.

“Happy New Year, Q.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay! I thought I had already uploaded it, but apparently something went wrong and it didn't save or something and I didn't realise. To make it up, I'm writing a little prologue ;)
> 
> EDIT: now properly spellchecked by YvonneSilver. Thanks a bunch, m'dear!

Outside fireworks were going off, but the fireworks in Q's neural network were far more impressive. He had just kissed 007. Double-Oh-Bloody-Seven. The part of his brain that was not befuddled by the alcohol in his system was screaming at him how bad of an idea this was. While not technically forbidden, there was a reason that work romances were frowned upon at MI6. But the part of his brain that decidedly was befuddled by alcohol was trying desperately to get Q to kiss Bond again.

“I think that's a record.” Bond murmured and Q was snapped out of his reverie.

“Hmm, sorry what?”

“I think that's the fastest new years resolution I've achieved.” Bond said, a smile tugging at his lips. There was also something almost vulnerable in his eyes, but Q was sure he must be imagining things. 007 was many things, but never vulnerable.

It took a moment to fully register the implications of that statement.

“Your new years resolution was to kiss me?” he asked, just to be sure.

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes”

That answer had come out too fast and too certain. Now Bond would either think he was not interested or insecure, neither of which was true.

He decided to ignore the fact that apparently he had completely tossed aside the notion of not getting involved with coworkers.

“You always struck me as the.... straight as an arrow type.” Q finished lamely.

“Really...” Bond said, and Q was relieved to hear the amusement in his voice. “And what would you call all the flirtatious comments I've made towards you while on missions?”

Q shrugged.

“Stress relief. Questionable sense of humour...” he paused. “Wishful thinking” 

He chanced a tiny smile and was rewarded with a smile from Bond. Not a smirk, but a proper smile that reached Bond's eyes. He still looked far too smug for his own good so Q decided to lean in and kiss him again.

He had planned to go for just a quick peck, but the way Bond moved to meet him halfway and the sensation of his lips moving against his own made him give the more reasonable part of his brain, which was by now shrieking in desperation, the middle finger and he deepened the kiss. Bond's hand came up to do absolute sinful things to his hair and Q had to struggle to hold back a moan.

“I'm noticing that you're not objecting.” he murmured when he finally pulled away for air.

“How very astute of you.” Bond grinned.

“Does that mean it's not wishful thinking to assume that that is not a gun in your pocket?”

“Well you're the weapons exper– ”

Q didn't let him finish the sentence. Now that he knew Bond was interested in him there was no way he would be able to keep his attraction to the man in check. He knew that somewhere along the way he would get hurt, but he was too deep into this already for that not to happen. He might as well enjoy the danger.

To say Bond was an experienced kisser was like saying the Pope was slightly religious. No kiss was like the last and Q doubted he would be able to live long enough to discover every single way the blond agent could tease and nip and lick, even if his job didn't already include a low life expectancy.

Hands moved over his body like slow burning electricity, sending little shocks down his nerve-endings and Q promptly forgot all about worrying about the future. Then, as Bond pulled him in at his waist, Q let out a sharp gasp. That definitely wasn't a gun.

“Bed” Bond growled against his mouth and if Q's body had had any trouble getting blood down to his groin due to the alcohol he had consumed, the absolute want in Bond's voice was enough to remedy that.

Somehow they made it to Q's bedroom, pausing every few steps to kiss and grope at each other. By the time they hit the bed, Q had already lost his cardigan and Bond was deliciously bare-chested. Bond started fumbling with the buttons of Q's shirt just as Q tried to undo the agent's belt. They ended up laughing and swatting at each other's hands until Bond unceremoniously pushed Q so that he fell backwards onto the bed.

Bond loomed over him as he picked at the buttons on Q's shirt, working steadily but at a controlled pace as he leaned down to kiss at the skin that was exposed at each newly undone button. Q looked down at him and unconsciously licked his lips at the sight.

“Delicious” Bond murmured and Q choked out a laugh.

“God, please leave the clichéd lines out of this. I'm not one of your mission objectives and I highly doubt my skin is actually that tasty.”

“I wasn't talking about the taste though I'm not complaining on that front.” Bond said, but refrained from any further 'lines'.

Even better, he proved that Q definitely wasn't just another mission to be accomplished. Q had witnessed and/or listened in to many of Bond's sexual endeavours whilst working the comm. He knew how Bond usually seduced his partners. He was suave, smooth and downright sexy with a type of elegance that really shouldn't be possible when there were that much bodily fluids involved.

Q would be lying if he said that he hadn't fantasised about being on the receiving end of Bond's seduction. He had imagined in great detail what it would be like to have someone make you feel like you were a work of art like Bond seemed to be capable of doing. He made sex look like how it looked in Hollywood films; beautiful.

But this. Tonight was completely different. And it was perfect in its imperfection. Q realised this was not going to be the typical sex that Bond usually had, when the agent started blowing raspberries on his stomach.

Q yelped and soon was reduced to helpless laughter. He had never in his life been this aroused and this giddy at the same time. He loved every single minute of it.

By the time Bond had reached the waistband of his trousers, kissing, licking and tickling his way down, Q was panting from both laughter and arousal.

“You are insane, you know that?” he gasped out.

All he got in response was a maddening grin. Q rolled his eyes and lifted his hips helpfully so Bond could slide his trousers off them.

“And definitely wearing far too many clothes. Off.”  
He tugged Bond into him by the belt loops and the agent fell forward, only catching himself by balancing his arms on Q's shoulders.

“Bossy” Bond teased.

“Complaining?”

“Not at all”

They kissed again before Bond pulled away so he could slip out off his trousers. Q licked his lips as Bond pulled his pants down as well, blushing when he noticed Bond's smirk.

“Like what you see?” Bond asked with a smug grin.

“Oh shut up, like you need the ego-boost.” Q said and pulled him down again. He wrapped his legs around Bond's waist and grinned when Bond groaned as he rolled his hips against him. There was something incredibly satisfying about knowing he could make the agent make those sounds.

They took their time exploring each other's bodies. There was no rush and to be honest, it only added to the feeling that maybe, just maybe, Q might be a bit special to Bond. That's what he selfishly chose to believe now anyway. He could go back to being realistic tomorrow, but for now he would enjoy this strange intimacy.

Q generally wasn't all that loud in bed. Though he enjoyed drawing moans and sighs of pleasure from his partners, he had always felt a bit awkward making similar noises. But with Bond it was a bit easier to not think of embarrassment. Perhaps because with Bond, sex was ridiculous and wonderful and so amazing that he damn well wanted Bond to know that god yes there! was a sensitive spot.

Distracted by Bond licking and nipping at his neck, Q didn't even notice that Bond had stopped caressing his body until he felt those hands return again, this time reaching between his legs. He moaned in appreciation as he felt a lubed up finger tease at his opening.

“God, you're so responsive” Bond growled and Q could feel just how much the agent enjoyed his vocal encouragement by the insistent erection pressing against his leg.

It had been a while for Q. He didn't get much action these days, what with being a branch head of MI6. Not that he had actually missed it all that much. He had been too absorbed in his work to worry about getting someone else involved in his orgasms. But good lord did it feel good to be stretched again!

By the time Bond deemed him sufficiently stretched Q was on a hair trigger.

“Look at you” Bond murmured and for a moment Q was absolutely lost in his wide-blown eyes.

“Do you think you could come, just from this? I haven't even touched you yet.”

“Don't you fucking dare.” Q growled. “I didn't come so close for you to not shag me tonight!”

“Oh, I'm going to fuck you alright.” Bond said and Q felt a shudder go through him at the hint of danger in his tone. 

“But you're going to come first. And then you're going to come again.”

“Oh god...” Q moaned.

“Just James is fine.” Bond – James – said as he continued fingering him. He curled and twisted his fingers until - 

“Oh god!” Q arched off the bed and his hands clawed at the sheets.

“That's it, darling... go on...”

It was too much. The way Bond's fingers kept brushing against his prostate every few thrusts and his voice and then he had to call him darling and shit shit shit!

Q howled as he came, and Bond pulled his fingers out and soothingly stroked his thighs and stomach as aftershocks ran through him. He was bloody muttering endearments to him! Fuck!

Q was thankful now that he had been loud before, because now his sobs could be blamed on his pleasure instead of how fucking loved he felt in that moment. He was screwed. He was so screwed because of course he had already fallen in love with the bastard.

In an effort to hide his emotional turmoil Q leaned up and kissed him. Bond kissed him back hungrily and was quick to hoist Q up and line himself up.

“Ready?” He asked, and bloody hell did he really have to sound so gentle?

“If I wasn't ready after all that, I'd question whether or not I'm human.” Q breathed. “Now shut up and fuck me.”

Bond moaned deliciously as he entered him and Q had to bite his lip to keep from doing the same. After his recent orgasm he was a bit tender, but it felt too good to finally have James inside him.

While not quite as vocal as him, James definitely voiced his pleasure through grunts and groans that were intoxicating. Soon, Q felt himself moaning again as well and they moved in tandem. Their foreheads pressed together, they kissed in between panted breaths. It was clumsy and yet perfect.

His body was humming with pleasure, and Q could honestly not tell if this was post-orgasmic bliss or if James was actually pushing closer to a second orgasm.

After a while James suddenly stopped and pressed his face into Q's neck, breathing in deep, shaky breaths.

“James?” Q asked breathlessly.

“Just give me a moment.” James managed. His thighs were shaking and for a split second Q felt worried before realising that James was close and was pausing to calm down.

“Oh no you don't” Q laughed and he rolled his hips. “If I can't catch a break then neither can you!”

“You little minx! F-fuck!”

“That's the idea – oh god, yes there!” Q moaned.

He wasn't quite nearing orgasm just yet, but he was definitely hard again. James definitely was close though, judging by how his rhythm was faltering and his thrust becoming more erratic.

“Yes! Yes! Come on!” Q cried out as he met each thrust.

Suddenly, James went completely still for a split second, before his whole body seemed to seize with the force of his orgasm. The loud moan that he let out would serve to fuel Q's fantasies for a long, long time.

James only barely managed to catch himself before he collapsed on top of Q.

“You utter...” he started, but couldn't finished the sentence because he was out of breath. Q grinned.

“You loved it” he said, and the look in James' eyes told him that he was right.

When James' hands wandered over his hips to his erection, Q grabbed them and shook his head.

“It's fine” he said. “Honestly, I think my body is a bit too optimistic.”

That resulted in such an adorable frowny face on James that Q gave into the urge to kiss him tenderly.

“I promised you a second orgasm...”  
He honestly sounded a bit sleepy and Q shouldn't find it as endearing as he did. He kissed him again, just because he could.

“Yes, but you didn't specify when.” he said. “It could be now... or in a few hours... or... tomorrow?”

He hoped that James understood what he'd asked. That he was given the option of this being more than just a one-night stand.

“How about both?” James asked and Q's heart gave a hopeful flutter at the vulnerable edge (that he had definitely not imagined this time) to his voice.

“Both... Both is good.” he murmured and pulled him in so he could snuggle into him.

Before sleep finally claimed him, Q felt a gentle kiss to his forehead and a whispered “Sweet dreams, Q, and Happy New Year.”


End file.
